


til i hear you sing

by allycatt



Series: les amis: an amateur theatre group [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Enjolras and Cosette are siblings, F/F, M/M, Slice of Life, Smoking, Theatre AU, in which the amis are a theatre company
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 16:19:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1517099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allycatt/pseuds/allycatt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the amis amateur theatre group. most of them are university age, or graduates, and they all come together to perform in various productions of, usually, musicals, and no, they probably don't have the copyright for most of what they put on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	til i hear you sing

**Author's Note:**

> in which grantaire is the new tech guy, enjolras get the lead role and courfeyrac shows off his piano skills.

"So how did you get into doing this theatre stuff?"   
  
The blond looked down for a moment, playing with his too-long sleeves. "I have anxiety issues. I don't like talking in front of crowds,"  
  
Grantaire failed to stifle a laugh which earnt him a glare from under the curtain of blond curls that had fallen over Enjolras' face (an attempt to hide his quickly flushing cheeks).  
  
"Sorry," Grantaire said quickly. "It just seems a bit strange for you to be doing theatre when you don't like talking in front of a large audience. I thought that was what theatre was."  
  
Enjolras was back to playing with his sleeves. "It's different." Enjolras snapped, though his voice lacked the conviction he would have liked. "It's like when people with a stutter sing and it goes away. When I'm on stage all of the anxiety goes away, because it's not me talking; it's the character. I like being someone else for a few hours in an evening."  
  
Grantaire could do nothing but stare at him, mouth opening and closing trying to find something to say that wouldn't make him sound any like and more of a douchebag. Luckily for him he didn't have to say anything because Combeferre rushed past at that moment and pulled Enjolras away.  
  
"Come on, R," said Courfeyrac, appearing behind him and clapping a hand onto his shoulder, "Let's go sit in the auditorium and watch."  
  
Grantaire let himself be led to a seat, between Courfeyrac and Cosette, who smiled at him warmly. "You haven't heard Enjolras sing yet, have you?"  
  
Grantaire shook his head. "But I heard you this morning, you were amazing."  
  
Cosette laughed and put a hand on his arm. "Thank you, Grantaire. But you should hold your judgements until you hear Enjolras. He's really something."  
  
The blond had taken his place centre stage. There was no costume; he was still wearing the leggings, jazz shoes and baggy jumper he had been wearing before. He looked very small on the stage.  
  
Enjolras nodded to Combeferre who was back stage. The bespectacled director pressed play on the track and Enjolras began to sing. His fists released his sleeves and his eyes fluttered closed as he started the first gentle notes of the song. His voice was not timid though, it came out strong and pure; Grantaire had not expected it to sound so beautiful.  
  
Enjolras' tenor voice floated through the melodic song, building in volume, emotions pouring out of him. He was the only one on stage, but his voice filled the entire auditorium like a choir. He stepped forward, moved across the stage, moving like water through a stream. His actions were sharp, but still looked more graceful than anything Grantaire had seen before.  
  
Cosette nudged Grantaire, who realised that his mouth had opened slightly, and quickly closed it.  Cosette giggled quietly. "Do you believe me now?" she whispered, and Grantaire almost wished she hadn't; it meant he missed some of Enjolras' beautiful music.   
  
The dark haired man nodded, not taking his eyes off the figure on stage. Cosette smiled; maybe this new guy was just what Enjolras needed.

Enjolras finished his song to applause from his friends and gave a small smile before walking back to Combeferre.

“That was lovely, my friend.” Combeferre said.

Enjolras shrugged. “That final note was sharp. Again.”

Combeferre rolled his eyes. His friend was always so critical of his performances. “What do you think of our new techie?” he asked, deciding to change the subject, but obviously, that was a bad choice. Judging by the face Enjolras pulled.

“I’m not sure.” He said, walking over to his bag while Combeferre followed him. “He laughed when I fell in warm-ups earlier, and I’m pretty sure he was making fun of me earlier when I told him about my anxiety thing.” Enjolras shrugged, rifling through his bag.

Combeferre sighed a little. “Well, he’s the only one we’ve got; especially now Feuilly’s had to pick up that extra job, he won’t have time to rehearse _and_ programme the lights in. Please, just try, to be nice to him.”

The lead made a small huffing noise as he pulled out his pack of cigarettes. “I’ll be nice if he is.” He took a cigarette out of its box and put it between his lips. “Now can I go and smoke?”

“If I can give you notes while we’re out there, yes.” Combeferre bargained, pushing his glasses back up his nose he’d made on his phone. Enjolras gave a small laugh, nodded and pulled on his coat, checking his pocket for his lighter before the two walked out into the crisp autumn air.

* * *

Courfeyrac and Marius pulled the piano onto the stage as Grantaire watched from the light box. Courfeyrac positioned it diagonally stage left, before sitting on the stool Marius had just put out and pressing a couple of keys. “Can we have some lights, R?” He called up.

Grantaire looked down at the light box. He’d known the theatre was old, and clearly they’d tried to bring some slightly new gadgets in, but the old sliders seemed to be falling off. He turned the house lights off, and put a spotlight on Courfeyrac, who grinned and gave him a thumbs up. “Are you sure this is okay?” Grantaire asked through the tannoy speaker as the red head began to play, and he was, of course, ignored.

Courfeyrac was very good at piano, Grantaire thought, as he played the opening bars of All That Jazz. Eponine seemed happy with the song choice as she scrambled onto the stage, and leant against the piano. Grantaire bought up another spotlight on her, enjoying the spontaneity of the whole thing. He followed Eponine with the spotlight as she danced across the stage, to the cheers of her fellow cast mates.

She finished to wild, playful applause, quite different to the applause that Enjolras had gotten. Courfeyrac had clearly called some of the boys onto the stage and they all stood on the stage and soon filled the space with gorgeous harmonies, singing some song about carrying a banner that Grantaire didn’t recognise. And then they were dancing, laughing as they forgot steps, and still all in perfect harmony. R couldn’t help but match the grins on their faces.

Maybe working with actors would be more fun than he’d thought.

* * *

“I like him!” Courfeyrac exclaimed, dropping his bag on the floor and joining Enjolras on the sofa.

The two of them and Combeferre shared a small apartment, a few streets down from the theatre. The rent was cheap, and the neighbours complained a lot, especially when they started singing (Enjolras would always claim that Courfeyrac was the main culprit, but he didn’t half belt it out when he was in the shower).

“Like who?” Enjolras said, disinterested, and leaning forward to tap the excess ash off his cigarette into the ash tray on the table (the other two had both learnt to deal with Enjolras’ smoking. It didn’t happen often, usually when he was most stressed out, and Courfeyrac could tell that him getting the lead role this time round was getting to him; so many of his friends had wanted it too, and Enjolras seemed to genuinely believe that they minded that he’d got the part. Of course, none of them really held it against him).

“Grantaire!” Courfeyrac stated, the ‘duh’ almost evident in his voice. “He’s great, you should have seen the improvised lighting he was doing when we were messing about on stage.”

Enjolras tensed a little. “He’s good enough to stay then?”

“Definitely!” Courfeyrac said excitedly, missing the worry in Enjolras’ voice.

Enjolras wasn’t sure what was making him so tense whenever anyone brought up the new tech guy. He assumed it was annoyance at the dark-haired man’s earlier actions, but the nervous fluttering in his stomach that wasn’t quite unpleasant suggested otherwise, and the way he kept thinking about those lovely curls peeking out from under the wine bottle-green beanie hat had him quite on edge. He stubbed his cigarette out. “Do you want some coffee?” He asked, standing up quite suddenly.

Courfeyrac blinked up at him. “Um, have I upset you?”

“No.” Enjolras said, sharply. “I was simply offering you a beverage.”

“Well, there’s no need to get all defensive about it,” Courfeyrac quoted with a grin which earnt him a pillow to the face.

“Do you want one or not?”

“I’d love a coffee, thanks, angelface.” Another pillow came with an exasperated noise from the blond, who promptly stormed off into the kitchen. He wasn’t really angry with Courfeyrac, just very, very confused about that stupid new guy and his green beanie.

**Author's Note:**

> 10 points to anyone who can guess what the show they're putting on is


End file.
